


I Think I Need a New Heart

by cyprianlatewood



Series: 69 Love Songs Vol 4 [4]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, M/M, Shameless Smut, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29592189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyprianlatewood/pseuds/cyprianlatewood
Summary: Songfic (lyrics in italics): Magnetic Fields - I Think I Need a New Heart(link here)The gang tried to move the moon but they failed and now they have 12 hours to stop it from crashing into earth (rewrite of S5x06 from mostly Quentin's POV)
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: 69 Love Songs Vol 4 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162388
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	I Think I Need a New Heart

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t seen the episode, the “ding” of Josh’s pizza is the signal they use to indicate the resetting of a loop.
> 
> Thank you so much to the wonderful [redtoblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtoblack/pseuds/redtoblack) for beta!

_ Time stands still  
_ _ All I can feel is the time standing still  
_ _ As you put down the keys  
_ _ And say, "don't call me please"  
_ _ While the radio plays _

_ I think I need a new heart, oh oh  
_ _ I think I need a new heart, oh oh _

Quentin was furious. After everything, Eliot had royally fucked up. And Quentin wanted to be sensitive, he really did. He knew El was struggling, he knew they were all sleep deprived. But Eliot had flat-out  _ lied _ , said that he was fine and that he could keep his shit together, and then just walked off in the middle of the spell and now the moon was in a billion murderous pieces and they had twelve hours left to figure out how to save the entire fucking planet from being blown to smithereens. 

_**DING!** _ Quentin jumped in his seat at the sound, but it was just Josh’s stupid pizza, ready to come out of the oven. He shoveled a piece into his mouth, the burning sauce stinging his palate as he wolfed it down, uncaring. 

He was furious at Eliot, but he was more furious that he didn’t have the luxury to be actually mad. Because they had barely just gotten their happily ever after and now it was all maybe going to end, for real. The world outside the penthouse was in chaos, and inside, they were grasping at straws. Eliot was in a bubble with Margo, and Quentin was trying to avoid him, but it was excruciating. It was also starting to feel pretty stupid in the face of the potential that they all might die, but then he had always been stubborn to a fault. He kept it together while the gang came up with a paper-thin plan to cast a modified reverse-entropy spell at the nighttime surge, which gave them the rest of the day to sit around and panic. 

He lasted less than an hour after that before he approached the Eliot-Margo fortress and touched El’s arm tentatively. Eliot looked up at him with a combination of resignation and hope, like he sort of figured this would happen but also knew that it was probably only happening because of the circumstance. But given the end of the world, who wouldn’t take whatever was on offer? Margo waved him on and they went to the bedroom to talk. Watching as Quentin mirrored his seated position on the bed, Eliot jumped in before he could say anything.

“Q, I don’t even know where to start. I’m going to fix this, I promise. I should have told you what was going on, I was just scared, as usual. I mean, I still don’t know what’s going on. I just keep hearing - or remembering, I don’t know -” He paused for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I think it’s the Monster. I think it’s still - inside me, or something. I’m fucking terrified it’s going to get out and I didn’t want to tell you because you - well, you were already so - I just don’t want to hurt you. So, you know, if you want me to go and let you spend the rest of the day with our friends, and maybe have a little better chance of fixing things for real without me around to fuck it up again, I understand.” He looked down at his hands, waiting for Quentin to send him away. Quentin’s anger began to collapse under the weight of Eliot’s confession.

“First off, I appreciate you telling me now. I really don’t think the Monster could still be in you, after everything we did, but I suppose anything is possible. I really wish we had time to figure it out. I also wish I had time to be mad about you keeping it from me. I wish I had time to, to yell at you, and give you the silent treatment, and cry, and whatever. And make you understand that you have to be honest with me for this all to work, regardless of how you think it’s going to make me feel. Or the ridiculous idea that I would ever want you to go be alone when there’s an impending apocalypse, regardless of whatever fuckups have happened or how angry I am. But I can’t. There isn’t enough time. Maybe this spell works, and then we can have a real, normal fight like we deserve, but maybe it doesn’t, and if that’s the case, I just wanna spend my last day alive with the love of my life.”

Eliot started to protest, but Quentin cut him off. “El - if you’re right, even though it’s highly unlikely, we can figure it out after we save the planet. If we don’t save the planet, then it doesn’t even matter, right?” He gave a hollow, morbid laugh. “Please, let’s just forget, okay? I got to be mad for a little bit, and now I just want to feel you.” He paused, then added coyly, “I already got myself ready for you.” Eliot’s eyes widened a little but he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, waiting, with an open, vulnerable look on his face.

He leaned into Eliot and touched their lips together lightly, almost as if asking a question. Even after all they’ve done together, the first kiss always seemed to play out like this – Eliot waiting for Quentin to initiate in some kind of chivalry, Quentin putting himself out there with a nervous half-step, Eliot surging forward into the approach with a prying tongue and firm hand cupping his neck. Quentin moaned into the kiss and explored Eliot’s now-open mouth with his own tongue. Eliot pushed further into the kiss, maneuvering them until Quentin was lying on his back, Eliot covering Quentin’s body with his own. 

“If you won’t let me apologize to you with words, then I’ll just have to show you with actions, won’t I?” he whispered against Quentin’s cheek, proceeding to lick a searing line around the edge of his ear and down to the side of his throat. Quentin arched up, leaning his head back to expose his neck as Eliot sucked a mark into the delicate skin. 

Eliot sat back and tugged at the hem of Quentin’s shirt. He sat up just enough for Eliot to pull it off over his head, dragging the rough pads of his fingertips up his ribs and underarms as he did so, making Quentin shiver deliciously. He fell on top of him in a wave of sensation, and Quentin sank into it gladly, pulled to the surface occasionally by bright points of pain-pleasure. The cold weight of rings pressing divots into his sternum, strong fingers gripping his wrists, teeth and tongue laving at Quentin’s left nipple until he was a whimpering mess. 

El continued to work his way down, tracing every inch of him with fingers and tongue and lips in a way that could only feel like some kind of  _ worship _ . As much as the thought made Quentin uncomfortable, the actual reality of it was pulling something hot and achy out from deep inside him, and it was welling up and out of his control more and more with every touch. He shuffled out of his pants and boxers with little ceremony, focused wholly on the sensation of Eliot thoroughly exploring the creases of his hips. Finally, Eliot’s mouth found his cock. Hands bruisingly tight on Quentin’s hipbones, he licked a continuous strip from his perineum over his balls and up the underside of his cock, blowing gently on the damp tip. Quentin hissed. “Fuck, El, what are you trying to do to me?” 

Eliot grinned in a way that indicated he was clearly trying to look suave, in control, but the smirk was shaky, a poorly-crafted mask. “Just what I do best, Q. Take you apart, piece by piece,” he said softly, without a hint of the sardonic drawl he was probably aiming for. “So you can let go.” And then he wrapped his lips around the head of Quentin’s cock and sucked it down. 

Fingers scrabbling at the sheets, moving to twist weakly in El’s curls. It felt so good, and so intense, like somehow the anger and desperation he felt earlier was morphing into pleasure without losing any of its momentum. “Dammit, El. Wait - it’s too much, I’m gonna come too soon if you keep doing that.” Eliot gave a hum and pulled off to move to his thigh. 

Quentin was flotsam, buffeted by the tingling contrast of El’s lips sucking his big toe, followed by a sharp bite on the inside of his ankle. By the time El got back up to the underside of his thigh, his entire leg was trembling, anticipation melting him down even as it keyed him up. Suddenly the ministrations ceased, and he looked down in confusion to see Eliot gazing at him hungrily, before giving a small smile and dipping his head to lick around the tight ring of muscle at his ass with ever-increasing pressure. Quentin collapsed, deliriously aware of his muscles fluttering around El’s tongue. Helplessly responding as long fingers slid upwards to push down on his bottom lip and explore his wet mouth. When one of those nimble fingers joined Eliot’s tongue inside him, Quentin’s breath sped up, and when El’s glorious mouth descended on his cock while a second finger breached him, his heart threatened to stop completely. 

Soon Eliot was scissoring and thrusting his fingers in a punishing rhythm to match that of his mouth moving up and down, and Quentin was breathing in and out in a steady whine, hardly even conscious he was doing it. “Come on, El,” he breathed. “Stop teasing and fuck me, already.” El hummed in acknowledgement but continued his ministrations a bit longer, his other hand letting Quentin’s leg drop and moving up his belly, rings catching in the hairs under his navel. Eliot rolled one nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, layering small spikes of pleasure over the low, vibrating heat in Quentin’s center. Finally he couldn’t take it and tugged at Eliot’s hair. “El,” he wheezed. “You have to stop.”

Eliot lifted his head off and looked at him in a daze. His mouth was shiny, and so red. Eyes dark. Somehow, inexplicably, he was still fully clothed, which made the debauched look even more arousing. “You’re not even undressed. I want to - touch you, come on.” Without breaking eye contact, Eliot made quick work of his clothes, his usual performative air completely absent. 

“I love you,” Eliot murmured as he crawled back up the bed and lowered his now-bare body again, Quentin practically howling as their cocks brushed together. El bent his head down to kiss him hungrily, and looked right into his eyes, so close. “I love you so much.” Quentin mumbled in the affirmative but squeezed his eyes shut to try and keep this overwhelming wave of emotion inside his skin, concentrating instead on the tut for lube. He opened his eyes again as he reached down and wrapped his slick hand around the girth of Eliot’s cock, and Eliot’s only reaction was a shuddering breath. 

But then Quentin whispered, “You want something to worship, look down at my hand. Look at how you look in my hand, El.” Eliot’s eyes flicked down instinctively and he gave a little surprised hiccup as he watched Quentin’s forearm muscles ripple under his skin, as his fist pumped Eliot’s cock. His thumb brushed over the slit, and Eliot gasped, lips parted. “Now,” and he lifted his head up, straining, to growl in his ear, “fuck me.” 

Eliot’s entire body twitched and he sat back quickly to line his glistening cock up with Quentin’s hole and started to push inside. The burn was sharp, and all-encompassing, which thankfully pulled him down from the cliff for a moment. But Eliot was still watching in reverence as Quentin’s muscles adjusted to take him, his fingers dropping to graze lightly around the rim where they joined together. He was moving altogether too slowly for Q, as the burn was starting to merge with the achy feeling again. Quentin hooked his ankles around Eliot’s waist to try and urge him forward. 

Finally, Eliot was all the way in. “God, El,” he groaned. “You feel so good. Nothing feels as good as this.” In response, Eliot curled back over him to kiss him again and pulled halfway out before snapping his hips forward and making Quentin shout into his mouth. Eliot raised himself up onto his hands to get more leverage and looked down at him, smiling at last. His curls hung rakishly over his eyes.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart,” he purred. “Taking me like this.” He continued to thrust forward in a punishing rhythm, drawing incoherent sounds from Quentin as he tried to keep his body anchored to the bed, to reality. His hand reached out for Eliot’s and interlaced their fingers, arms sliding out as Eliot tried to keep his weight balanced. There was a sheen of sweat forming at his low back under Quentin’s heels, making his legs slip and bounce. Eliot curled over him again and licked the sweat off his jaw, biting his neck, his collarbone, anything he could reach. 

This welling thing inside him was cresting, and Quentin couldn’t stop it. Eliot was hitting his prostate repeatedly and his cock was throbbing. He just needed, he  _ needed _ to touch it. “El - I need to - my cock, please -”

“Go ahead, baby - touch yourself. Fall apart for me.” Confident and seductive now - finally, here was the Eliot he was used to. He wanted to prolong it, but he was too far gone. He reached down to his cock and barely got his hand around it before he was erupting, coming all over them both, ass clenching around Eliot, crying out, the achy thing pouring out of him like lava, becoming sound, becoming tears, becoming pleasure. And Eliot continued to thrust into him as his nerves sang. Just before the sensitivity circled back around to pain, Eliot gave a little jolt and stilled, pulsing deep inside. 

Quentin reached up with his sticky hand and pawed limply at Eliot’s chest, feeling their galloping heartbeats slow as they came back to Earth. Eliot pulled out gently and rolled over to one side without letting go of his hand. Quentin rolled to face him, relishing in the feeling of Eliot’s come leaking out of him as he moved. They lay there for a minute, just looking at each other, all sweaty and wrecked and breathing hard, wet-eyed and spattered in come. 

Then Quentin felt his eyes crinkle and his mouth turn up until his whole face was squeezed into an uncontrollable expression of joy. “That was one hell of an apology,” he giggled, and Eliot gave a surprised laugh, eyes soft as he reached out and brushed a bit of hair behind Quentin’s ear. 

“I don’t know. Did it work?” He asked, tone playful but with a tightness returning around his eyes. 

Quentin’s heart caved in a little. He felt his stubbornness slipping away, but he still didn’t feel quite ready to say it was all forgiven. “I love you, El. It’s okay. I promise. We’re gonna be okay.” And that seemed to be enough, because Eliot nodded and his eyes relaxed. They cleaned up with a spell, and then a shower, and got dressed in real clothes again because who wouldn’t want to look nice for the end of the world? 

They passed the rest of the afternoon with their friends, and in the evening when it came time to do the spell they did their very best, and when the spell was over they saw the meteors still hurtling towards them and had only seconds to accept that this was truly the end, only seconds for the pair to grasp at each other and frantically cry, “I love you,” and for Quentin to start to say “I forgive you” before

**_DING!_ **

_ You've lied, too  
_ _ But it's a sin that I  
_ _ Can't tell the truth  
_ _ 'Cause it all comes out wrong  
_ _ Unless I put it in a song  
_ _ So the radio plays _

_ I think I need a new heart  
_ _ Just for you  
_ _ I think I need a new heart _

Quentin was furious. After everything, Eliot had royally fucked up. And Quentin wanted to be sensitive, he really did. He knew El was struggling, he knew they were all sleep deprived. But Eliot had flat-out  _ lied _ , said that he was fine and that he could keep his shit together, and then just walked off in the middle of the spell and now the moon was in a billion murderous pieces and they had twelve hours left to figure out how to save the entire fucking planet from being blown to smithereens. 

“Mother-shit!” Margo shouted angrily from the other side of the room. He looked over, startled. Margo and Eliot were standing up and stumbling over to the coffee table. Margo didn’t look too much worse for wear, but Eliot looked like complete shit. His shoulders were hunched, tie dangling around his neck, hair askew. Had he looked that bad earlier? Without permission, Quentin’s fury vanished instantly at the pathetic sight. 

“Okay, people, we’re in a time loop situation,” Margo started. “It’s, like, the 10th one. So trust me, we  _ have  _ had this conversation before. And no, we don’t know why it’s just me and El who remember. And yes, we have fucked it up every time.” Eliot just stood there nodding along, dead-eyed, not even looking at Quentin. A cold dread started to form in the pit of his stomach.

“Are we any closer to figuring it out?” Julia asked, taking it in stride because of course she did.

“Not really. If we could just go back a little earlier in the timeline, maybe we could do something, but we just keep getting bumped back to right here.”

Penny sent them off to a horomancer who might have some ideas, and Quentin had to run to catch Eliot’s arm before they were out the door. Eliot turned to him with a blank affect, looking exhausted and miserable. “What is it?” 

“Just, umm, are you okay?” He felt cowed in the face of this emotionless Eliot. 

“No, Q, I’m really not.” Eliot scrubbed his hand over his face.

“I know I was mad, but I can let that go.” Quentin promised. “I just wanna help you. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I know. You and I have already had this talk nine times. We had makeup sex eight of those times, and I promise you it was hot and cathartic, and there were tears and buckets of come, but I am too drained to do it again.” Quentin sank into himself with guilt over putting Eliot through the wringer so many times. He wished he could remember, wished he could do anything that would bring some hope back into his lover’s face.

Eliot pulled himself up, all business again. “This is the best lead we've had so far, so I have to go follow it. Either it works and everything’s fine again, or it doesn’t and we start this loop over. Either way, we’re not going to die.” The sudden reappearance of his brusque facade made Quentin bristle all over again. 

“Okay, well just, you know, be careful, I guess.” He shrugged petulantly and turned away, secretly hoping it would draw some reaction. Like clockwork, Eliot caved immediately.

“Wait, Q, I’m sorry. Just come here.” And he pulled Quentin into a hug and gave him a long kiss. But then he still pulled back with a sad look. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Or today, or whatever. I love you.”

“Love you too, El.” Quentin watched, a little numb, as Eliot and Margo left the penthouse. He spent the rest of the day moping, and when they didn’t come back, he knew it was all just going to reset anyway but it still felt scary as hell, so he hugged Kady instead as the meteors crashed all around them, rocking the penthouse, waiting for the explosion that would finally

**_DING!_ **

Quentin was furious. But just as he was stewing in feelings and pizza, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye - Margo and Eliot were leaving the penthouse. He ran to catch them in the hallway, pizza forgotten. “Where the hell are you guys going?” he asked. 

“Dammit, El, control your puppy, for godsakes,” Margo snarked. 

Quentin did a double-take. “Excuse me?!” 

Eliot sighed and gave him a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “Don’t take it personally. Mama’s just grumpy because we’re stuck in a time loop nobody else remembers except us, and we’re fresh out of ideas. So we’re going to get shit-faced at the Cottage and see if we come up with anything.”

“Oh.” Quentin digested that information for a moment, then asked, “Can I come?”

“Oh, Jesus Labradoodle Christ!” Margo complained, throwing up her hands. 

Eliot laughed, a little hysterically. “Oh, what the hell, why not?” And he draped one arm around Quentin’s shoulder and they headed to the portal for Brakebills. 

When they entered the Cottage, it was a sad affair. Kids were weeping and hugging each other all around the common area. The former Party Kings whipped them into shape soon enough though, and within the hour all of them were doing body shots and dancing in colored wigs. “Anything?!” Margo shouted to them over the din. 

“Not yet!” Eliot shouted back. 

“Me neither!” Quentin added, just before he got hit in the head with an errant pillow. A drunken pillow fight ensued, during which he and Eliot ended up on the floor, Quentin on top, and so of course they were soon making out and grinding against each other. “You know what I always wanted to do?” he shouted into Eliot’s ear. 

Eliot gave him a lazy smile. “What’s that, baby Q?”

“Blow you in the reading nook,” he said in a confidential whisper. They both started laughing. 

“No, really,” he whined between giggles. “I saw you in there, once, you know. One of those parties first semester, before everything. You’d left the door open, and you were in there with some other first year. Derek, maybe, I dunno. But the look of rapture on your face when he sucked you down - I jerked off to that image for weeks.” 

Eliot’s eyes had gone dark. “Fuck, Q.” 

“So, you wanna?” He asked, persistent. Eliot didn’t even answer. He just staggered to his feet, pulling Quentin by the wrist. 

“Where are you going?” Margo called out after them. 

“Getting ideas!” Quentin shouted back before they both collapsed into each other, laughing hysterically.

Finally, they made it through the press of bodies into the reading nook. They had to kick out a couple of other students, who took one look at Eliot looming over them and realized it wasn’t worth the fight. Once the space was clear, they climbed in and shut the door, falling over each other in the cramped space. In the near-darkness, Quentin climbed Eliot’s body like a fallen tree as he reclined against the wall, wiggling his hips as El fondled his ass. He found El’s mouth by feel and they kissed and kissed and Quentin ran his hands all over El’s bare chest (his shirt had come unbuttoned after, like, the 3rd shot) and down to his belt. Eliot’s hips lifted as he pulled both layers of fabric down with him in the tiny space, leaving them in a tangle around one ankle before crawling blindly back up so he was in the general vicinity of El’s groin. He used his hands to find Eliot’s cock, hard and twitching under his touch. A high moan came from above as he brought his mouth down around it, Eliot’s hand groping for a hold in his hair. “Jesus, Q, slow down.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Quentin mumbled around his cock. “Just wanna taste you.” And he kept sucking and swirling his tongue, the scent of Eliot’s musk overpowering in the dark space. The sound of his breathy moans and the tug of his fingers twisting in his hair - everything was twice as intense in the dark. He rubbed his groin up against Eliot’s leg as he stretched his lips around him. Before long, Eliot was exploding into his mouth and he was unbuttoning his pants and stroking himself until he came only a few seconds later, still swallowing around El’s cock. He pulled off and wiped his mouth, coming up for a kiss.

“Mmm, you taste good,” Eliot moaned into the kiss. “Want me to return the favor?” 

“Umm, I actually already, uh…”

“Wow, Q. You really did love this little fantasy, didn’t you?” Quentin blushed and smacked his arm lightly, thankful that Eliot couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark. They cleaned themselves up and tumbled out of the nook, not even closing the doors before another pair was climbing in. Eliot shuddered. “God, I don’t even want to think about how many people have had sex in there,” he said, then paused with a smirk. “Oh wait, yes, I totally do.” And they both laughed again, and headed back to the party to do more shots. By the time the explosions hit Brakebills campus, they were so plastered they barely even registered what was happening. They just lay on the rug playing with each other’s hair while Margo sat nearby on the couch, making out with 

**_DING!_ **

Quentin was still trying to figure out just how mad he was at Eliot for lying to him, and whether that mattered in the face of impending apocalypse, when he felt a familiar grip on his arm. “Come on, Q. Toga party.”

“Uhh…”

“We’ll explain on the way,” Margo gestured as Eliot dragged him out of the penthouse.

As they were walking, Margo and Eliot gave Quentin the rundown on the time loops. Apparently all their previous plans had failed and they had been trying to “generate ideas” by - partying? Sounds fake, but okay. They got to the Cottage and got straight to work - spells for the costumes, but an hour in front of the mirror doing makeup. Don’t fuck with makeup spells, apparently. They always look like shit.

“You guys, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Todd is kind of buff,” Margo said as she eyed the decked-out partygoers. “But not like, hook-up buff. Please kill me if I hook up with Todd.” 

Eliot patted her arm comfortingly. “Sure thing, dear.”

Eliot putting on eye-makeup was one of the hottest things Quentin had ever seen - he was honestly shocked he’d never gotten to watch this before. Margo did Quentin’s eyes while he stared at Eliot. He had covered his lids in some gold sparkly shit that made his eyes look almost the same color. He was outlining his eyes in a thicker line than usual, like a cat-eye or something? Quentin didn’t know makeup words but it looked like a cat-eye. When Eliot was done, he turned to look over at Quentin, mouth dropping open in astonishment. 

“Oh my god, what? Does it look awful?” Quentin turned quickly to look back at the mirror, and Margo jerked back, cursing. 

“Julius Caesar Christ, Q, sit still! I almost poked your eye out!” 

But what he saw froze him in the spot. He looked - different. His eyes looked bigger. There was something else, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he - kind of liked it. Not for like, an everyday thing, but maybe - he glanced over at El’s reflection in the mirror. Eliot hadn’t moved. He was just watching Margo finish Quentin’s left eye with his mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Their eyes met in the mirror and Eliot gave him a lascivious look, licking his lips slowly. Quentin swallowed. He felt his cock hardening under the toga, which, to be fair, he had boxers on still, but like, maybe not the best outfit for hiding a boner.

“Okay, all done. You clean up pretty nice, Coldwater.” Margo zipped up her makeup case and walked off to find them something magical to smoke. Chillwave music started to fill the Cottage, accompanied by the obligatory clouds of weed. Eliot still didn’t move.

“Umm, El - you okay?” 

“Q, I am literally seconds from tearing that toga off right here. We are definitely making you wear eye makeup again. Holy shit.”

“Well, I guess we could see if there’s a free room upstairs?”

“Don’t even think about it, assholes,” Margo interrupted, coming back with a pipe and a bottle of whiskey. “Last time you went off to the reading nook and we all heard you, and that is not as hot as it sounds.”

“Shit, El. Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve always wanted to blow you in the reading nook!”

“I know, baby. That’s why we did it.”

So they lounged on the couch, smoking naturalist herbs and trying to chill their hard-ons enough to think about the end of the world, but finally, Eliot stood up. “Okay, we’re going upstairs. Margo, you can deal. The only ideas I’m having at this moment involve my dick and Q’s ass.” And he stalked off up the stairs. 

Margo rolled her eyes, then looked over at Quentin. “Well, what the hell are you waiting for? I’m sure I can keep my hands off Todd without you two horndogs around.” He didn’t need to be told twice, tripping over his toga as he ran up the stairs. 

**_DING!_ **

Quentin looked up from his pizza to see that Eliot was missing. “Uh, Margo - where did El go?” 

“Fuck if I know. He just jumped up and booked it out of the penthouse a minute ago, for no reason. Looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Huh.” Quentin felt like crying, and maybe punching something. This was all his fault. Eliot was obviously falling apart and didn’t have great coping skills, and Quentin had just berated him heartlessly anyway. Now El had run away to spend their last day on Earth alone, and Quentin would never get to hold him again.  _ Fuck, don’t think like that, we’re gonna fix this. Reverse entropy is gonna work. _

They got their ducks in a row as best as they could, and gradually the rest of the gang filtered out to visit their various happy spots one last time, leaving Quentin alone in the apartment. He should go somewhere, call his mom, or something. But instead, he just curled up on the couch in front of the laptop, which someone had left spouting a continuous barrage of depressing news updates. He was so engrossed in his wallowing that he didn’t even notice at first that someone had come back. Until - was that Eliot’s voice? 

It sounded like he was talking to someone, threatening them? He sat up groggily to see El gripping the sides of a mirror and gritting his teeth, having some kind of standoff with his own reflection. Quentin watched warily for several seconds, and when nothing happened, he reached down and carefully closed the laptop, cutting off the sound. Eliot turned, startled by the change.

Quentin almost gasped out loud. Eliot looked awful. Everything in his body and his stance looked like it was trying to not sink into the ground, but slowly losing the battle with gravity. It reminded him of the post-Mike days. “El? What’s going on?” 

Eliot looked like he wanted to bolt. He didn’t come closer to the couch. Getting up carefully, Quentin approached him like you might a skittish animal. When Eliot flinched away from his attempt at a comforting touch, he let his hand drop, uncertain what to do next. “Okay, El, I know you’re hurting, and I’m sorry for being a jerk about the spell. But please - this could be our last hours together and if we’re gonna die I just wanna - “

“We’re not going to die,” Eliot cut in flatly. 

“Umm, okay, well I wanna believe that too, but there’s a pretty good chance that - “

“No. I mean. We’re definitely not going to die. We’re stuck in a time loop.”

“Oh. But - what?”

“We’re in a time loop. The Earth keeps exploding and then we keep restarting twelve hours earlier, and nobody else remembers but me. Well, it was me and Margo, for a while, but now she’s been yanked out for some reason and it’s just me, all alone, failing everyone I care about, over and over and over.”

As he spoke, he sat down heavily on the couch and put his face in his hands. Quentin’s mind was whirling, trying to make sense of everything. He automatically curled in next to his boyfriend on the couch and rubbed his hand up and down his spine in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He felt a little out of his depth, here. But then he had an idea.

“Hey, you wanna go somewhere? Everyone else is going to their favorite places, or whatever, but I couldn’t really think of anything that wasn’t in, like, New Jersey. Do you have a place?” 

Eliot lifted his face above his fingertips, perking up a little. “Yeah, there’s, um - a diner where I used to go, in undergrad - it’s not far, actually.”

“Okay, then,” said Quentin. “Lead the way.” 

Settled in a cozy booth in the back, feeling the squeak of vinyl under his legs, Quentin took a moment to look around. Funny, a greasy spoon in midtown is not what he would have imagined as Eliot’s comfort zone. But Eliot-before-Brakebills was a whole enigma that he was probably never going to fully know. Still, it was endearing to think of a less-varnished version of Eliot, still trying to figure out his whole  _ deal _ , hanging out in this diner smoking cigarettes at 19 and reading Samuel Beckett scripts over bottomless cups of coffee. 

They ordered pancakes and bacon. It was a silent breakfast-for-lunch, for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. Quentin waited for Eliot to start, but it was clear he was content to just keep on hiding in his cave unless Quentin coaxed him out.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on, El,” he urged, reaching out his hand to close over Eliot’s twitching fingers on the formica tabletop. “If this really is a time loop, it’s not like I’m going to remember what you told me anyway, right? Pretty low stakes, when you think about it.”

Eliot took a deep breath, and nodded minutely. “Yeah, okay. Right.” And he launched into the explanation of the last several loops, how they tried everything they could think of, and then how Margo had met an oceanographer who gave her a lead. How Eliot was too much of a mess to help her, so she left him alone to go chase down the lead at Fisher Beach, and now suddenly she was resetting with everyone else. 

“Well, it seems like the next logical step is to go check out Fisher Beach, see what is in that Lifeguard Station. Whatever she found must have been important, if it led to her losing her spot in the time loop,” Quentin reasoned.

“But what if I lose my spot as well? And then we’re just stuck in this trap forever? I have to fix this, Q. It’s all on me. And I don’t have a fucking clue what to do!” Eliot’s face started to twist. 

“Hey. Hey. We’ll figure this out. I’m here now, okay?”

“It’s more than just solving the problem. I don’t know how much longer I can hold it together. I tried to keep it secret before, but it’s getting worse every loop. I think - I think the Monster is still in me, somehow.”

“Okay, El, that’s not possible. Come on, you know that.”

“What I know is that  _ something _ is in my head, and it’s trying to get out. I keep hearing  _ voices,  _ and seeing messages, in, in  _ blood.  _ And there’s a door. It’s knocking at the door, and it wants me to let it out, and I’m so fucking scared.”

“Fuck, okay. Well, hey, maybe it’s not the Monster. Maybe it’s just some shit your subconscious is pulling, to fuck with you. Have you tried talking to the voice?”

“Yeah, you saw me. At the mirror. It doesn’t seem to hear me, or it doesn’t respond, anyway.” __

“Have you tried - have you tried just opening the door?”

“No! Are you insane!? What if I open it and let out the Monster again? What if it comes out and kills everyone? What if it kills me? Or tortures you again?”

“What if it does? Can’t be worse than the situation we’re in right now, right? And I dunno, El, I feel like it’s gotta be something else. I’ll come with you, if you want moral support.”

“No - no. I don’t want you there, just in case - I don’t want it to hurt you.”

_ Well, I don’t want anything to hurt you either, _ he thought angrily, but Eliot was pretty stubborn when it came to this stuff. If he wanted Eliot to get any relief, he needed him to open that door. If he wanted Eliot to fix the time loop situation, he needed him to open that door. And as much as it worried him to find out what was really waiting behind that door, he knew the consequences would be much worse if they didn’t. If it was truly the Monster - well, they were fucked anyway, so what more could it do? Much more likely, it was repressed Monster memories. But if that was the case, he would be there for Eliot, to help him process. And then they could fix everything, together.

“Okay,” Eliot sighed, coming to a resolution. “I’ll open it. But if anything happens, know that I love you more than anything and I would never, ever want to hurt you. So if it is the Monster, you have to kill it, you have to stop it. Even if it means killing me.”

“El - “

“I don’t care, Q. I can’t put you all through that again. Promise me.”

_ Not in a million years, El,  _ he thought to himself. But aloud, he said “I - okay, I promise. If it comes down to that, I’ll do what needs to be done.” 

Eliot pulled himself up and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course, El. I love you too. I’m here for you.”

**_DING!_ **

Quentin could barely wrap his head around it - they were in an actual time loop, caused by an actual Kraken, which was guarded by magic whales who communicated with humans through an old CRT TV in a lifeguard station on Fisher Beach. And Eliot knew all this because he somehow remembered all the loops - “Permanance,” he explained. 

“For men and women!” Margo added, a look of grudging appreciation on her face. 

“But the whales can remove it, apparently, thus your disappearance from the loops,” Eliot continued.

“Because I tried to kill the whales?” She asked. Eliot nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like me,” she accepted. They didn’t explain further. 

“Well, why can’t we just get the whales to release the Kraken earlier?” Julia suggested. “Get the twelve-hour loop to start before the heist, and stop Marina?” 

“You haven’t met these whales,” Eliot hedged. “They aren’t exactly open-minded.”

“I’ll come with you,” Quentin volunteered. He didn’t know how he would be able to help, exactly, but he really, really wanted to meet these whales. “I mean, it would be better to have someone talk to them who’s not at risk of losing their -  _ permanance _ , or whatever. Right?” 

Eliot looked like he was having a silent conversation with himself. It was weird. Quentin wondered briefly if it had anything to do with those weird twitches El had been having over the past few days, and whatever he was following out into the hallway when he abandoned the moon ritual. Was Eliot still hallucinating? But he looked in much better spirits, and seemed optimistic about the plan, so Quentin let it slide. Finally, Eliot came to some conclusion and nodded. “That’s a great plan, Q. Let’s go.” And they headed hand-in-hand to the beach. 

Eliot was less talkative than usual on the way. When he did talk, it sometimes seemed like he was saying things he had already workshopped thoroughly in his head, or things that didn’t sound like anything he would normally say. But he was weirdly chipper about it. Quentin couldn’t figure it out. Then they got to the station, and he found that he didn’t really care anymore. He was talking to whales! What the hell was his life? 

Unfortunately, Eliot was right. These were some stubborn creatures. He tried, cajoled, pleaded. Then, desperate, Eliot did the same. No matter. As Quentin was about to try again, the TV shut off abruptly. “What happened?!” he asked, frantically. 

“Yeah, they do that,” Eliot sighed. 

Quentin was beyond pissed. He ran out of the station to the water. He started shouting at the ocean. Eliot ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Maybe try to be a little nicer, sweetheart,” he muttered from between his teeth. Quentin took a deep breath and remembered trying to profess his love for Fillory at the Drowned Garden. That had felt like a hopeless task, and he had somehow talked the flower into blooming anyway. This couldn’t be that different. He could do this now. So he appealed to their natures, to humanity, to their mating season, to everything he could think of, until finally he was on his knees in the waves with Eliot, just begging. And then they felt a rumble. They looked in awe out at the water, watching first one giant tentacle rise, and then another and

  
  


**Before They Broke the Moon - Take 2  
** **Night 5 - 120 Hours without Sleep**

_ 'Cause I always say, "I love you"  
_ _ When I mean, "turn out the light"  
_ _ And I say, "let's run away"  
_ _ When I just mean, "stay the night"  
_ _ But the words you want to hear  
_ _ You will never hear from me  
_ _ I'll never say "happy anniversary"  
_ _ Never stay to say "happy anniversary” _

_ So I think I need a new heart, oh oh  
_ __ I think I need a new heart, oh oh  
_ I think I need a new heart, oh oh  
_ __ I think I need a new heart, oh oh

_ Give me time _

Quentin wasn’t sure what to do about Eliot. He thought maybe things were going to be okay earlier that morning, when El and Julia had left for reconnaissance at Westbrook’s estate. But he had come back looking more haggard and haunted than ever. Quentin had given Julia a pleading look, and she’d pulled El aside for a talk. It didn’t seem like it had gone very well. And now they were at the party, about to carry out a pretty elaborate plan to sneak into the rock room and cast the spell from there, hoping they could trick security long enough to complete the ritual and stop the harmonic convergence. They were huddled up outside the gates when Eliot suddenly clapped his hand over his mouth in surprise. “It worked!” he said, apparently to himself. They all turned to him like he was crazy.

“I can’t believe it worked,” he just murmured again, and Julia ushered them all onto their individual tasks. Quentin hung back awkwardly, but it looked like Eliot was deep in conversation with Margo, so he let them be. 

The plan went off without a hitch, all things considered. At least until Marina stormed in and bound their hands mid-ritual.  _ Fucking hell _ . But before they could even begin to process how to get out of the situation, Eliot started rambling some incoherent nonsense, making Marina hesitate, and then suddenly Margo appeared from nowhere, punching her out. She released their hands, and Eliot signaled for them all to do the spell. 

Everything else went smoothly. They moved the fucking moon. They all laughed in relief and hugged each other, before remembering that they were still in a bit of a time-sensitive situation with Westbrook’s security team, so they grabbed Penny and Josh and made their escape while everyone else was still asleep - thanks to Marina, ironically. 

“Thank god we had those  _ meth  _ muffins, huh Josh?” Margo asked once they were safely back in the penthouse, eyes twinkling in mirth. After Marina flat-out admitted that her sleep spell didn’t work on you if you were on meth, Josh could hardly deny it, could he? 

“At least it was organic,” he quipped back. Julia snorted. Quentin looked over to where Eliot was standing off to one side, smiling at the group enigmatically. How had Eliot known Marina would be there? How had he known what to tell Margo? What wasn’t he telling them? Later, in their room, cuddled up together in bed, he couldn’t quite let it go, even while delirious with exhaustion. 

“How did you know?” he asked quietly. 

Eliot’s body tensed briefly against his, relaxing again as he answered nonchalantly. “Let’s just say I got a glimpse of how things were going to play out. And I didn’t like it.”

“Like, a vision?”

“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, sweetheart,” he reassured Quentin, placing a gentle kiss on his furrowed brow. “For now, let’s just relish the fact that we saved the world tonight, and can finally enjoy a night of peace before we move onto the next thing.”

“Like The Dark King?”

“Peace, Q. Just one night. Please.” He sounded fondly exasperated. Quentin caved and nuzzled up closer into El’s chest. 

“Okay, fine,” he grumbled. “Goodnight, El.” And he was asleep before he could come up with another rebuttal.

\--

Eliot stayed awake for a while longer. How could he sleep when Charlton kept pacing the length of the room? “Jesus, Charlton,” he muttered in his head. “Can’t you just go to sleep like a normal non-corporeal psychic advisor?”

“Sorry, I’ve just been cooped up for so long, and it feels simply divine to move my limbs around again in the real world. Are you going to tell Quentin about me? That I was the one locked behind that door? Because you really should. He knows you’re hiding something, and it’s really not worth hiding this.”

“I don’t know, Charlton. I’m already on thin ice with him, I think. I don’t want to drive him away. I don’t see any reason why it would matter if I told him, anyway. And what if it freaks him out? What if he decides he doesn’t like being with someone who always has another voice in his head? Another set of eyes on everything we do? I’ve already fucked everything up with him multiple times, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize us again.”

“One could argue, Eliot, that keeping this from him may eventually do exactly that. But your will is, as always, your own. I think you’re right, I will go take a brief rest. I think there’s an empty room down the hall. Goodnight.” And Charlton pouted and stalked away. Eliot scrubbed at his face with his free hand. Well, whatever, one problem at a time, he supposed. Everything would look better in the morning. He closed his eyes against the bright moonlight and let sleep overtake him at last.


End file.
